


hide until the sun comes out

by SuburbanSun



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Academy Era, Awkward Fitz, Drunk Jemma, F/M, Kissing, Mostly Fluff, Tumblr Prompt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-23
Packaged: 2018-03-16 17:35:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3496916
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SuburbanSun/pseuds/SuburbanSun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fitz can forget about one little drunken kiss, can't he?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [EclecticMuse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/EclecticMuse/gifts).



> Written for eclecticmuses on Tumblr, who was having a mediocre day and wanted Fitz being Jemma’s shoulder to lean on at the Academy.
> 
> Title from "In The Night Time" by Among Savages.

“And then he just… _left._ ”

“He just left?”

Simmons nodded miserably, head drooping onto Fitz’s shoulder. “He didn’t even stay to see what grade we got on our assignment!”

Fitz breathed out through his nose. He’d suspected that something fishy was going on when Trent Waterston had asked Simmons on a date the same day they’d been paired up in Applied Field Tech. He just hadn’t known how to say so. “But Simmons, you didn’t really like him, remember? You said, and I quote--” He affected a high-pitched version of her lilting accent. “‘Oh, Fitz, Trent Waterston’s got the lowest grade in the class. He might as well be in Operations.’”

Her head lolled back against the back of the couch, still pressed up against Fitz’s side. He didn’t mind. Whether she’d liked the guy or not, she was upset and it was important that he be there to comfort her.

“I don’t sound like that.”

He stifled a grin. “You do a little.”

“Okay. Okay. I’m only letting you get away with that one because I’m--” She lowered her voice to an exaggerated stage-whisper. “ _Fitz_.”

“Yeah?”

Simmons cupped her hands around her mouth and turned to broadcast her whisper into his ear. “I’m a little _drunk.”_

He leaned away from her a bit-- her whisper was louder than she seemed to think. “I know you are.”

She pouted. “Why do all men suck?”

“We do?”

“Oh, sod off, with your defense of your species. You suck.”

“I do?”

Simmons craned her neck to look at him, brow furrowed. She blew out a quick puff of air, grasping the hand that rested on his knee with both of hers. “No. Not you. Why don’t you suck, Fitz?”

“I don’t know?” The way she was playing with his hand, running her fingers across each of his, was incredibly distracting.

“You just…you’re nice. And so smart. And so _interesting._ Nobody else is _interesting,_ you know that, Fitz?”

“I guess.” At this point, she had slid her hand against his own so they were palm to palm, fingers still extended.

She looked up at him as if she’d just remembered something important. “Ooh, and your face.”

“What about my face?”

Simmons smiled softly, slowed by drink and sadness. “It’s like your personality is written all over it.”

Fitz didn’t know a lot about girls, but he knew that being described by your personality wasn’t a good thing. “Yeah, okay,” he said, looking down into his lap. He felt her shift against his side, pulling her hand from his and moving it up to brush his jaw. He met her eyes, which held a curious look he wouldn’t expect on someone who’d downed a whole bottle of wine and what looked like the remainder of a bottle of scotch solo before he’d come over. She just watched him for a moment, fingertips brushing underneath his ear, and he watched her back. She didn’t look quite so sad anymore.

“Simmons? You okay?” He regretted the words as soon as they were out of his mouth. Suddenly he felt like he was the one who’d had a lot to drink. But she just nodded, slowly, twice, and leaned in.

And then she was kissing him, lips soft and eyes open. His own eyes were wide, but something instinctual within him pushed him to kiss her back, meeting her halfway. It was slow, and sweet, and brief.

She pulled away, only then closing her eyes as she scooted down on the couch so that she could rest her head against his shoulder comfortably. For his part, Fitz just sat there, bewildered. His arm went around her as she burrowed closer to him. He kept thinking of different things to say and then not saying them.

Before he knew it, her breathing had slowed, and a soft snore told him she was asleep. He’d never regretted taking a 10 p.m. Night Ops elective so much. Determined to keep her comfortable, he gingerly stretched his legs out to rest them on her coffee table and settled in to sleep on her couch for the night.

 

\--

 

The next morning, Fitz woke to bright light streaming in through Simmons’ windows. His room this was not, with its blackout curtains that let him sleep the morning away. Something in his movement must have nudged Simmons awake, because she stirred moments later and yawned fiercely. She sat up with what seemed like great effort, removing her head from Fitz’s shoulder.

“Ow.”

He tried not to chuckle. “Head hurt?”

Simmons squinted at him, covering half her face with one palm. “Ow,” she said again.

This time, he did laugh. He stood, crossing to her bureau and pulling open her top drawer. He handed her the bottle of ibuprofen he found there, then grabbed a bottle of water from her mini-fridge. “Chug this,” he said, passing it to her. She did as she was told, swallowing a pair of pills and finishing most of the water before capping it and grimacing. He sat back down beside her, keeping a polite distance

“I feel like hell.”

“Yeah, I’d imagine you might.”

“Why do I feel so bad?” Fitz assumed that was rhetorical-- after all, she of all people understood the effect of alcohol on the human body. He answered anyway.

“Well, you got broken up with, and then you got pissed on everything you had in your room before eventually passing out.”

She glared. He backtracked.

“I mean, it’s perfectly understandable…”

“Just--” She set her water bottle on the floor and ran both hands over her face. “Just tell me I didn’t do anything or say anything embarrassing last night.”

Fitz froze. A million thoughts passed through his mind in a split second. Chief among them: did kissing him count as embarrassing? He had no idea what the gentlemanly thing to do was. Or, for that matter, what the ungentlemanly thing to do was. His mouth opened to tell her what had happened. Then closed. Then opened. Then closed. Finally, he spoke: “Nothing at all. You fell asleep as soon as I got here. Like a little angel,” he added for good measure.

Simmons glared at him again, pursing her lips. “Yeah, yeah.” She scooted closer to him and curled up on the couch, letting her head drop against his shoulder once again. “Thanks, Fitz.”

He swallowed thickly. “Welcome.” As his arm came to rest around her shoulders once again, he couldn’t shake the feeling that it had been a pivotal night-- just not for the person who’d gotten broken up with.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He looked down at his lap, unwilling to meet her eyes. “You kissed me.” When he finally did look at her, Simmons was looking away, both hands toying with a strand of hair. She let out a long breath through her nose, then turned her attention back to him, grimacing.
> 
> “That is embarrassing.”

Fitz managed to avoid Simmons for most of the weekend thanks to a hasty text telling her he was feeling sick, maybe contagious, and no, he didn’t need her to bring him chicken noodle soup. He’d hoped he could sort out the thoughts that had swirled in his mind since the kiss before he had to see her in the lab on Monday.

He wasn’t so lucky.

The knock at his door came after dinner on Sunday evening, and he knew it couldn’t be anybody but her. He paused the video game he was playing and took a breath before letting her in. She breezed into his room like she belonged there.

“How’re you feeling?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you feeling any better? You said you were sick yesterday.” She reached into the tote on her arm and pulled out a Tupperware container. “I know you said you didn’t need soup, but.” She set it down on the countertop of his tiny kitchenette. “Everyone needs soup when they’re not feeling well.”

He smiled in spite of himself, then his eyes grew wide as she reached for his face. “Simmons, what’re you doing?”

“Checking to see if you have a temperature, silly.” She flipped her hand over to press her knuckles against his cheek. He suddenly did feel a bit warm. “Hmm, doesn’t feel quite like a fever. What are your symptoms?”

He ducked away from her hand, scowling. “If I’m contagious, you shouldn’t even be here.”

She tutted at him. “I’m fine. I have an impeccable immune system.”

Fitz stepped around her to put the soup she’d brought over in his refrigerator. As he found a place for it between the lunchmeat and the Mountain Dew, he felt her hand rub his upper back. He jumped at the touch, practically falling into the fridge. He turned back around and shut the door behind him, leaning back against the cool metal and meeting her confused gaze.

“Come to think of it, I’ve never known you to be sick,” she said. “There must be quite a bug going around.”

“Must be,” he muttered, sliding sideways to get around her and exit the kitchenette. He knew he was acting weird, and he knew he wouldn’t be able to hide from her forever. He also knew that every time she touched him he couldn’t help but think of her lips, and how soft they were, and how he wouldn’t mind feeling them on his again. No, it was best if he kept his distance for a bit, at least until these feelings dissipated.

He cleared his throat. “Well, like you said, must be one hell of a bug, so you’d better get going.” He began to walk toward the door, one hand instinctively going to her back to gently guide her before he realized what he was doing and jerked it away. “Thanks for the soup.”

“What? No, I’m not worried about getting sick.” Simmons frowned up at him, reaching again for her tote bag. “I brought over some notes I need to revise and figured I would keep you company for awhile.”

Fitz cleared his throat again, then faked a big cough. “I don’t know if that’s a good idea. Trust me, you don’t want to catch what I’ve got.”

She pulled out her notebook and a pen and rolled her eyes at him. “I’ll be _fine_ , Fitz. Really.” She gestured to the TV. “Go back to playing your game. I’ll just curl up next to you on the couch and study.”

Fitz’s mind drifted yet again to what had happened the last time Simmons had been curled up beside him on a couch, and he made a frustrated noise in the back of his throat. Why couldn’t he get that moment out of his head?

He turned toward the TV, picking up the remote and switching it off. “Nah, you know, I’m actually about to head to bed.”

“At 7:30?”

He spun around at her voice, which sounded closer than before. She was standing right behind him, peering at him with concern. He gulped.

“What on earth is the matter with you today, Fitz? You’re practically jumping out of your skin.”

He shook his head, not quite meeting her eye. “No, no, I don’t think so.”

“It’s true.” She reached out to place a hand on his forearm, and he tensed at her touch. She noticed, pulling her hand back and putting both hands on her hips. “See? What in the world is wrong?”

“Nothing!”

“Fitz!”

“Simmons, it’s nothing, really.”

“Just tell me!”

He practically growled in frustration. He had planned to never tell her what had happened, but he knew how she could be-- she was unlikely to let this go. He sat back heavily on the couch. “Alright, alright. Just-- no need to nag.”

“I’m not--”

“You did do something embarrassing. The other night. When you were drinking.” He pursed his lips, watching her face shift with worry as she dropped to the couch beside him.

“I did?” Her hand flew to her mouth. “Oh no. I emailed Professor Richardson, didn’t I? I had been mentally drafting an angry email to him about my grade on that toxicity assignment all day. Oh god, what did I say to him?”

“No, it wasn’t that.”

She breathed out in relief, brow still furrowed. “What did I do, then? Get sick?”

“No.”

She stiffened. “I didn’t call Trent, did I?”

He shook his head. “No.”

“Then what?”

A beat. Fitz sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, knowing that he wasn’t going to be able to get out of this. “You kissed me.”

Simmons blinked at him. “I what?”

He looked down at his lap, unwilling to meet her eyes. “Kissed me.” When he finally did look at her, Simmons was looking away, both hands toying with a strand of hair. She let out a long breath through her nose, then turned her attention back to him, grimacing.

“That is embarrassing.”

Fitz’s chest tightened, even though he’d known that was the truth, and he nodded. She had never meant to kiss him. She’d probably thought he was Trent, or one of the other less-than-brilliant specimens she’d dated over the course of their years at the Academy. Of course she was embarrassed to find out that--

“Not remembering something like that, I mean,” she corrected. His eyes flicked back to hers as she said it. “Well… was it any good?

“Sorry, what?” He fiddled nervously with the hem of his grey t-shirt.

“The kiss,” she said, gesturing between the two of them and tilting her head to the side. “Was it good?”

He couldn’t do anything but dumbly nod his head at her in affirmation, mouth hanging just slightly open. She pursed her lips, both hands on either side of her neck. “God, that’s embarrassing,” she muttered to herself.

Fitz cocked his head. Usually he knew exactly what she was talking about, sometimes even before she got the words out. This time she had him flummoxed. “Um,” he began, scratching nervously at the skin behind his ear. “What, exactly, is it that you find embarrassing?”

She looked at him plainly, like he should know the answer. “That I don’t remember!”

“You’re not-- you’re not embarrassed that you kissed me?”

“Well, not really, no.”

He had no idea what to make of that. A look of worry crossed her face.

“Unless you didn’t want me to…” she continued.

Fitz gaped at her. “No! I mean, no, I was-- I was alright with it.”

She sighed, relieved. “Well, I must have had a good reason for it. Were you doing something particularly appealing?”

“What does that mean?”

“Like, I don’t know…” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “Eating something in an attractive manner? Or doing some kind of dance?”

His eyebrows were at his hairline at this point. “You know I don’t know how to dance. No, I was just… sitting there next to you.”

She nodded, taking in this piece of information. “Yes, that makes sense,” she said quietly.

“It does?”

Simmons ignored him, crossing her arms in front of her. “It’s not exactly fair, though, is it?”

“How do you mean?”

She looked at him, but didn’t quite meet his eyes. “Well, you remember it. And I don’t. It’s not terribly fair.”

“Ah.” He felt adrift in the conversation, completely at a loss for what he should say.

“I guess that’s my fault, after all. I shouldn’t have had so much to drink.”

“Well, you were upset. About Trent.” His hand twitched to comfort her, rub her back or squeeze her shoulder or something, but he still didn’t think touching was wise.

She chuckled. “The funny thing is, I’ve managed to forget all about him in the past couple of days. We really weren’t a good match.”

“No, definitely not.”

“So it’s a shame that I let him get to me so badly that night.” She tucked her hair behind her ears. “It’s a shame that I don’t remember what happened.”

Fitz felt like his head was foggy, like he only partly understood what she was saying. Was she upset that she let herself drink too much? Or upset that she had kissed him and didn’t have the memory to prove it? He merely nodded.

“Well,” she began, resting her palms on her knees. “It’s really not fair that you have a memory of this thing that happened, and I don’t.”

“You mentioned.”

She watched him out of the corner of her eye. “I wonder if… if it might seem more fair… if it happened again, now that we’re both clear-headed.”

Fitz blew out a quick puff of air, meeting her gaze. Did her eyes just flick down to his lips for a moment? He wasn’t sure if he’d imagined that or not. Frankly, he wasn’t sure if he was imagining all of this. “You mean you want to…”

Simmons turned toward him more fully and sighed. “Look, it’s going to drive me absolutely bloody mad if I know that this happened but can’t remember what it was like. So can we just kiss one more time? Just to… even things out?”

He had no idea what to say to that, so he just nodded and turned his body to more fully face her on the couch. She scooted a couple of inches closer to him, and he rested his arm along the back of the couch for balance as he leaned in just a little.

“Okay,” she said, leaning in closer to him, eyes drifting shut. One of her hands slid forward on the couch so that her fingertips brushed his knee. He swallowed, letting his own eyes close as he leaned in.

Just as their lips brushed, Simmons pulled back, looking stricken. “Wait, you’re sick!”

Fitz wrinkled his nose. “Huh?”

“You’re contagious. We shouldn’t be kissing.”

His eyes widened as it dawned on him that his little lie might be getting him in trouble. “No, I’m not, actually.”

“What?”

“I’m not sick. I, uh. I just said I was because… I thought you might need some space? After what happened.” He rubbed the back of his neck with one hand. “Thought you might be feeling weird.”

“I didn’t remember it, so why would I feel weird?”

He pressed his lips together. “I don’t know?” She leaned back a little on the couch, taking stock.

“Did you feel weird?”

Fitz’s eyes darted away from hers, and he dug his fingers into the back of the couch. “I… maybe? A bit?” When he snuck a peek at her face, she looked guilty, maybe even a bit sad. He quickly backtracked. “Not bad-weird!”

“Is there such a thing as good-weird?”

He sighed, looking down at his lap. “I was just… I kept thinking about it, y’know? Couldn’t seem to get it out of my head. I thought maybe if I didn’t see you for a few days I could… I don’t know. Forget it ever happened.” Then, realizing how that must have sounded: “Not forget-forget!”

She scoffed. “Fitz, your grasp of the English language is leaving something to be desired tonight.”

He ignored her, finally looking right into her eyes. “I didn’t want to forget because I didn’t like it. I wanted to forget because I did.” She raised her eyebrows, seemingly at a loss for words, but at least she didn’t look guilty anymore. “I haven’t been able to stop thinking about it since it happened. So I suppose we have the opposite problem.” He managed a weak laugh, pleading with his eyes for her to say something.

“Well.”

“Well what?”

She cleared her throat, eyes not leaving his. “I suppose that’s all the more reason for me to see what’s so special about this kiss.”

He wasn’t sure if he was hearing her correctly. She still wanted to kiss him again? “Simmons, you don’t have to--”

“I know.” She scooted closer to him again, one hand drifting back to his knee. “I’d like to, though.”

He could only manage a nod as she leaned forward, her other hand cupping the back of his neck to pull him down so she could press her lips to his. His eyes shut and his hand reached out immediately to slide against her cheek. Her lips moved slowly as her hand moved further up his leg to grip his thigh, and he fought a shiver as she opened her mouth and her tongue slid against his. This turn of events he never would have expected in a thousand years.

Once she surely needed air (him, he would have gladly gone on without breathing), she pulled away, her hand retreating to his knee and staying there. He couldn’t stop staring at the way her eyes were dark and her cheeks were a little flushed, her lips pinker than usual.

After a moment of just watching each other’s face, the corners of her mouth twitched into a smile and she squeezed his knee gently. “How on earth did I ever forget _that_?”

He looked down, biting back a smile. “Don’t know.”

“Fitz?”

“Yeah?” His eyes flicked up to meet her sparkling ones.

“I think I’m going to need another reminder.”

His eyebrows shot up, and he couldn’t fight his grin this time. “Yeah?” She slid her hand back to his thigh, leaning in again.

“Maybe a few more, actually,” she whispered against his mouth.

As his lips met hers for the third time, he knew he’d never be able to get kissing Simmons off his mind now. But maybe he didn’t need to.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Want to chat on Tumblr? I'm unbreakablejemmasimmons over there!


End file.
